The Darkness
To be honest, until a couple of years ago I’d pretty much written off The Darkness (as, I assume, had a lot of people.) Their career appeared to have followed the all-too-depressingly-familiar trajectory of meteoric rise to fame followed by huge early success followed by “difficult” second album followed by descents into substance abuse followed by splits and line-up shifts followed by comparative obscurity. Then I caught their “surprise” set at Download in 2015 and was, along with everyone else in the heaving tent, blown away. What’s more, new album Pinewood Smile has received glowing reviews from the likes of Mojo, Kerrang!, and Q. So, I was really looking forward to what the local heroes would pull out of the bag and thrust into a jumpsuit at UEA. As it turns out, rightly so.
Before we get onto that, though, a couple of words on support act Blackfoot Gypsies, who are very very good at making music I really really don’t like. Their brand of whisky-soaked, seventies-tinged, country-rock grooving is way too rootin’ tootin’ for my palette, but there’s no denying their skill, commitment, and energy. Anyway, what do I know? They play to a packed room, get a great response, make a lot of friends, and have a blast. So fuck me, right?
Now, here I was going to bring up an issue I have addressed in these pages before; that of gig etiquette. I was going to present a lengthy and reasoned argument on why the only decent thing to do at a packed and heaving gig (and, my word, it was packed) when someone is attempting to inch forwards is to allow them to do so without comment. We all have to stand in front of someone, and it’s not my fault that my genes are stronger than yours. I refuse to be victimised because I am a 6’2” Adonis with the body of a young god, while you are a toddler’s turd floating in the shallow end of the gene pool with a head like a microwaved plum. Maybe if you went to more than one gig a year you’d get it. Anyway, I’ve decided not to bring it up.
The Darkness take to the stage amid rapture and smash into opener Open Fire. Second offering Love Is Only A Feeling feels a little like a misstep; surely a mid-paced semi-ballad is more suited to a mid-set position. No matter, though. The set really hits its stride with third song Black Shuck, and it’s absolutely faultless from there on in.
I’m going to say a few words on how The Darkness are looking these days, mainly because it’s pretty amazing, but also because they have no right to look this good after those few years in the wilderness. Justin Hawkins looks healthy and toned, like the bastard son of Freddie Mercury and Angelina Jolie after a LOT of yoga; Frankie Poullain is a Manga rendition of Disco Stu played by Richard Ayoade; Dan Hawkins from The Darkness looks like a younger, healthier Dan Hawkins from The Darkness; and new drummer Rufus Tiger Taylor looks like a cross between Roger Taylor from Queen and Roger-Taylor-from-Queen’s super-hot wife. Because, y’know, he is.
The Darkness proceed to play a two-hour set that, despite those slightly shonky third and fourth albums, feels like banger after banger. They deliver it like a band that is simultaneously comfortable in its skin while also having something to prove again. It’s exhilarating, hugely impressive and, above all, incredible fun. They’ve never taken themselves too seriously, as evinced by Justin’s frequent warm, self-effacing, and hilarious between-song bants, but fuck me they can play.
It’s no surprise that the tracks from debut album Permission To Land are the real highlights, with Friday Night, Get Your Hands Off My Woman, and Growing On Me almost stealing the show. I say “almost” because that honour is reserved for the one real surprise of the evening; the encore kicks off with a joyous rendition of Christmas Time (we were assured earlier that they wouldn’t be playing “the fucking Christmas song”) and ends with the now-classic I Believe in a Thing Called Love. Exemplary.
And that’s it. Tonight’s show is a triumphant homecoming for a band clearly on a return to form, both in the studio and live. Long may it last.
